


he makes me laugh

by Thorinsmut



Series: Junkers [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (it's not just a river in egypt), Ableist Language, Blackmail, Blowjobs, Complete, Cuddles, Cum Eating, Denial, Explosions, Finger Sucking, Frustration, Gifts, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Murder, Roadhog is along for the wild ride, Roadrat Secret Santa, Size Difference, get-together, handjobs, junkrat plans three steps ahead and half-sideways, no longer canon compliant, so many murder thoughts I'm sorry, somehow this works out for him, this was written well before 'wasted land' came out folks!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9025060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: Roadhog couldn't remember the last time he laughed. Somehow, Junkrat had a way of knocking him off balance to make him do just that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-inline-rex](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the-inline-rex).



> Part of the Roadrat Secret Santa event on Tumblr. the-inline-rex didn't give me much in the way of a prompt. I hope this is acceptable, I had a lot of fun writing it!

"G'day!"

The sudden greeting—along with the equally sudden appearance of a wild-eyed stranger bouncing up into Roadhog's face—startled him into immediate action. He swung a punch with his right hand, powerful enough even without his spiked glove to crush bones and even more deadly with it, but the stranger had dodged. He was surprisingly fast on his gangly limbs, or what was left of them. He leapt back out of range of Roadhog's fists, but that didn't matter. Roadhog already had his modified shotgun pistol in hand, held carefully in two fingers. He fired point-blank at the strangers chest.

It didn't connect.

The lanky stranger had taken one more uneven jump away from Roadhog, before he could pull the trigger, and went flying into the air with a loud _pop_ and a high-pitched giggle.

A bomb. The crazy bastard had stepped on a bomb and let the explosion carry him out of range. He landed on the roof of a ramshackle tin shed, still laughing. Roadhog fired again, bullets tearing through the thin metal, and the stranger went quiet.

The bosses wouldn't like that he'd put more holes in the tin, but that hardly mattered. They were too afraid of him to do anything. It was a comfortable life Roadhog had here, as much comfort as junker civilization could offer. He went where he was told, killed maimed and threatened who he was told to, and in exchange he had whatever he needed. He had his part of the barrier to protect, the most feared enforcer in the outback, and only the gang bosses were above him.

"Right, fair enough!" the stranger's voice called out from on top of the shed, startling Roadhog out of his thoughts again. "First attempt's free. But try and kill me again, and I'm blowing the bike." A bright orange prosthetic arm stuck out over the edge of the roof, holding a detonator.

Bike!?

Roadhog's gaze shot toward his bike, which he now saw was festooned with wires and bright yellow orbs with smiley faces on them. Explosives, or a bluff? He couldn't count on it being a bluff from a man who'd launch himself into the air with a bomb.

If it was anything but his bike being threatened, Roadhog would have torn the shed down to strangle the stranger with his bare hands.

 _How_ had the stranger snuck up on Roadhog in the first place, much less had the time to wire his bike without alerting him? _Why_ would someone risk crossing him? Unless this was a gang takeover. Some group trying to take Roadhog out of play so they could take the whole place over. How many accomplices did the stranger have with him?

Roadhog turned, eyes sweeping the dusty scrapyard that was his home for anything out of place. There was _nothing_ , no one he could see. They were either very good at camouflage or nonexistent, and Roadhog did not like the first option. That suggested training, professional equipment. Some damn suit trying to infiltrate the junkers for profit again.

No one was crazy enough to take Roadhog on alone.

"What do you want?" Roadhog demanded. He kept his gun and hook handy, on the alert for any out-of-place motion that might give the stranger's backup away. This wasn't the first fight Roadhog would win outgunned and outnumbered. People always underestimated how much damage he could do, and how much he could take and keep fighting.

"Got a proposition for ya!" the stranger called back, hand with the detonator disappearing. He vaulted himself over the edge of the roof and walked toward Roadhog with a lurching stride on his peg leg, scrawny body hunched over under the weight of the spiked tire on his back and the bits of scrap-scavenged equipment he carried. His smile was wider than his narrow face, showing off sharp rat teeth and a hint of gold where he'd replaced one.

Now that Roadhog was actually looking at him, the stranger _looked_ like a junker. You couldn't fake the dirt and the malnutrition, the mismatched limbs and the patchy radiation baldness. You couldn't fake eyes that had watched the apocalypse and burned with the bright orange fire of radiation fallout.

A mouthpiece, then, hired to see to the suit's interests in Junkertown. Normally they hired people with more charisma, as slimy as themselves. The stranger was tittering now, looking up at Roadhog like he was made of pure gold.

That was... odd. He didn't seem afraid at all. He must think his backup was much more than a match for Roadhog, and all the little hairs prickled at the back of Roadhog's neck.

"Your proposition?" Roadhog prompted impatiently.

"Right, right. Hahahaha! I need a bodyguard, and you're the best. I'm hiring you!" He grinned at Roadhog like he thought that was actually going to work.

Roadhog didn't bother to answer. The stranger was close enough Roadhog could snap his neck with a quick swing of his chainhook, too fast for him to detonate the bike. Too fast for his backup to react. If they were smart they'd run for it. If they attacked, they'd give their locations away, and Roadhog could take them down. It was settled then. The hook.

"I can pay you!" The stranger continued, eyes flickering to the hook and away like he knew that's how Roadhog was going to kill him, but still not worried. "How do you like a 50% share of the treasure? Better than the scrap the gang bosses pay you! Sound like a deal, mate?"

"What treasure?" Roadhog asked. Why hadn't he just killed this annoyance already? There was no point in entertaining some suit's mouthpiece. He could hear Saw leaving his own shack, on his way over to check what Roadhog was wasting ammunition on. They weren't going to be alone much longer. Now. Now was the time to kill the stranger, have a body to present and some decent scavenging out of his equipment instead of the embarrassment of being found held hostage by his bike.

The stranger was laughing, that endless grating laugh. "The treasure of the omnium, mate! Everyone wants it and it's half yours for protection. I'm Junkrat! Jamison Fawkes! You haven't seen the posters?"

Junkrat. The mad bomber.

Everyone wanted him. The bosses definitely wanted him. They'd sent their best out to hunt him down, and they'd disappeared without a trace. Roadhog had refused and promptly forgotten all about it, but now he remembered the manic face on that poster. The face that was grinning at him now. Roadhog didn't want to hunt some radiation-crazed kid across half the wastes. He had his life here, all the comforts Junkertown could offer. Food that wasn't _much_ past expiration, a mattress where the springs didn't all poke through. A shack that kept the irregular irradiated rain out. Hired affection on occasion. Kill where he was sent to kill, maim where he was sent to maim. Protect this part of the barrier from anyone who might want to hurt the bosses. That was his life now.

But if luck was _handing_ the most wanted man in the Outback to Roadhog, he most certainly was going to cash in. With everyone and her mother out to get him, Junkrat couldn't have backup. He really was mad, coming to Roadhog on his own. The bosses were going to like this. Roadhog just had to get the detonator away from Junkrat so he couldn't blow the bike, hogtie him, and drag him in.

"You like the sound of it? Half the treasure?" Junkrat asked, bouncing a bit where he stood. There was a spring on the bottom section of his peg leg, and it bounced with him. Not attached to anything, not functional, just a random spring on his leg as decoration. "'Course you do, it's _treasure_. It's settled! You'll work for me. I made you a gun!"

What?

Junkrat hobbled a few steps closer, grinning hugely. He unhooked something that had been hanging below the tire on his back and held it out to Roadhog.

Roadhog already had a gun, the biggest he could get once his old blunderbuss broke down completely. It was a sawed-off shotgun set with a pistol grip, the trigger guard broken off so he could get his finger in there to fire it. It was _tiny_ in his hand, hard to aim, hard to use. The bosses made such a fuss about the difficulty of outfitting him, always.

The gun Junkrat was handing him was anything but small. It was built of scrap, obviously, with a massive double-barrel. When Roadhog picked it up, it _fit_ in his hand, made to his size. He'd forgotten what that felt like, if he'd ever known. His bike was the only other thing in the world the right size for him, and that was more a part of himself than a piece of equipment.

"Hooley Dooley, you're _massive_." Junkrat's tone turned it into praise rather than mockery. He straightened up to his full high, back cracking, and was suddenly as tall as Roadhog's shoulders. He might have been an impressively big man if there was more than sinew and dirt on his bones. His fingers—sun-scorched metal and flesh—were running all over Roadhog's hands and the gun. "They said you were big, but they were underestimating how magnificent you are! I thought I'd have to make it smaller, but nope. Hahaha! Bigger again. Size it up so your hand doesn't cramp."

Junkrat tugged the gun out of Roadhog's right hand, and Roadhog switched it to his left rather than giving it up. He didn't want to let that gun go. Junkrat was more interested in his right hand than the gun at the moment. He measured Roadhog's hand with his own, muttering nonsense to himself as he seemed to figure out the exact best geometry for a gun to suit it.

Then Junkrat dropped Roadhog's hand on his face, giggling under Roadhog's hand like a little kid who thought the size difference was hilarious. Where had _that_ memory come from? Kids didn't interact with Roadhog, most ruthless of enforcers. Junkrat tipped his face up under Roadhog's hand, sliding it down his scrawny neck to his equally scrawny chest, and the piercing warmth of his eyes and the way his whole body shuddered under it was certainly not childlike.

A gay boy, then, or at least flexible enough not to be particular. Roadhog felt a little answering twitch of want, which he pushed immediately way. It was pointless. Roadhog wasn't going to take Junkrat's offer.

Was he?

Of course not. He had his predictable life here, the best he could expect of the broken world.

Junkrat was completely unafraid of Roadhog, which would be his undoing. Roadhog moved his hand back upward just a bit, let his thick fingers find the back of Junkrat's neck. Junkrat whined softly, eyes rolling up. His adam's apple bobbed with a convulsive swallow when Roadhog ran his thumb up his throat.

Snapping Junkrat's neck like the irradiated twig he resembled wouldn't be hard. It might kill him, or it might paralyze him and leave him able to tell where the treasure was and not much else. The bosses would like the second option, and not the first. It was a coin toss. Crazy bastard had spread it around that he had a treasure, but someone with such a complete lack of survival instincts probably didn't know pyrite from gold. It probably didn't exist, so no reason to keep him alive, and absolutely no reason for Roadhog to abandon his life here to work for him for a half share.

Junkrat's mouth had fallen open while Roadhog thought, and Roadhog's thumb had somehow made it up to there instead of the neck he was supposed to be breaking. Junkrat's tongue was warm where it tentatively reached out to touch Roadhog's thumb, and he made a whimpered 'hnng' sort of sound when Roadhog swept his lip up away from his teeth. He actually had surprisingly good teeth for a junker. He must be doing pretty well for himself, even all on his own and with no survival instincts.

Roadhog jerked his thumb away from Junkrat's mouth, resisted running his thumb along his gumline to make him moan again. There was no reason to inspect him like he was goods for sale; Roadhog wasn't having any part of him. Just snap his neck and end this entire ridiculous situation. Junkrat wasn't holding the detonator for the bike. There was no way he could damage it now.

"Oh, did I already mention that if you kill me _everything_ blows?" Junkrat said brightly. "Hehe, meant to say that, but you're distracting."

Everything?

That froze Roadhog in surprise. He was no demolitions expert, but the sheer quantity of explosives on Junkrat's body was overwhelming. If that _all_ blew at once, there was no way even Roadhog could survive the blast. Unless they were mostly fakes. It could be a bluff.

Junkrat was the infamous mad bomber though. He'd taken out more than a few of the bosses' best manhunters. He wasn't bluffing.

There was a feeling in Roadhog's chest, something strange and foreign bubbling up. He tried to swallow it down, but it it pushed out through his throat anyway.

"Ha!"

A laugh. How long had it been since he laughed? Roadhog couldn't remember. Junkrat was an endless stream of surprises, and how long had it been since Roadhog was well and truly surprised? Life was an endless dust-gray slog, with the occasional red punctuation of battle. Junkrat was grinning manic yellow and orange, fire to light entirely new possibilities. Every time Roadhog thought he got a handle on the situation, he was spun around again. And Roadhog was laughing. It felt _good_.

He let go of Junkrat, switching the new gun to his right hand again. "What does it fire?" he asked. Having a gun that fit his hand could be nice, but it was useless without ammunition.

"Right! That's the beauty of it mate!" Junkrat's hands were on Roadhog's again, showing him how to crack it open, exposing the chamber. "It fires any bit of scrap you can fit in here!"

Anything at all? Really? Roadhog let his eyes sweep around. There was broken metal and rusted stuff everywhere. Everything in the world was ammunition. No more rationing. No more getting cussed out by the bosses for wasting it. Roadhog took a step away from Junkrat, grabbing hold of part of an engine that had been rusting against the side of his shed for the past few years. It was easy to crumple a bit of it up, break it enough to fit in the chamber. A quick flick of his wrist set the double-barrel back in place with a quiet _snick_. Such a slick mechanism, so easy to use.

Nobody else in the world would be able to use this gun. They wouldn't be able to hold it and reach the trigger at the same time. It was Roadhog's and Roadhog's alone.

Now here came Saw, finally picking his lazy way through the rubble toward Roadhog.

"Hog!" Saw complained, not even noticing Junkrat, who'd stepped behind Roadhog. "What are you wasting ammo on now? As if it wasn't enough that we keep you fed when you eat as much as ten men, you've got to..."

Roadhog fired.

Saw's body toppled backward, leaving a spreading red mist where his head had been.

Junkrat cackled, dancing in place. "Beautiful! What a work of art!"

The sound of an unfamiliar gun was going to draw the rest of the gang. They had a few minutes before... but no. The bikes were starting up already.

There, in Saw's hand. A radio. He'd been talking to somebody when Roadhog took him down, shortening the window of escape to a matter of seconds. And there were bombs all over Roadhog's bike.

"Clear the bike!" Roadhog ordered, grabbing another handful of scrap to reload the gun. The plumes of dust were approaching fast. The barrier was still in place, but that wouldn't hold the gang off long. None of them could move it by themselves like Roadhog could, but together they'd do it easily. With his hook and a gun that couldn't run out of ammunition, Roadhog could take the first wave at least.

They were are the barrier now. Youngblood was the unlucky junker picked to man the outside of the barrier. Roadhog hooked him, dragging him in to blow him apart. That paused them for a second, but then Roadhog heard Adder shouting out orders on the other side. That was trouble. She'd get the junkers organized to attack him, and be almost impossible to pick off herself.

"Fire in the hole!" Junkrat shouted. There was a roaring sound behind Roadhog, like an engine coming to life, and the spiked tire that had previously graced Junkrat's back raced past him toward the barrier. It climbed over the barrier Roadhog had helped build to be impenetrable in less than a second, and was on the other side.

The boom was deafening.

"Woooohahaha!" Junkrat cheered, bouncing on his mismatched legs. "Let's go!"

The bike was clear. Roadhog ducked into his shack, grabbing the dusty duffel bag from beside his mattress that held an object or two of sentimental value as well as the few clothes he owned, grabbed the bag of his food rations for the week, and climbed onto the bike. His heart was pounding. How long had it been since he felt this _alive_?

Junkrat grabbed onto his back, clinging like a koala with one arm and flinging mines behind them with the other as Roadhog started the bike and went roaring away.

"That way!" Junkrat pointed. "That's where I stashed the sidecar. I think. Maybe. Ahaha!"

A sidecar? Junkrat had been _so certain_ Roadhog was going to join him he'd gotten a sidecar for the bike?

Roadhog was laughing as he leaned into the turn to go get it. He could figure out what the hell he was getting himself into later, and what he wanted to do about it. Right now, he was having _fun_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where the smuts go

Junkrat and Roadhog spent the first half day together fighting, until the gang bosses decided they were too dangerous to keep throwing bodies at. The next half day Junkrat spent sleeping, claiming he hadn't slept in a month.

That was the last silence Roadhog heard. Junkrat talked constantly, mind jumping from topic to topic at random. One moment talking about possible improvements to Roadhog's gun, the next about how sexy Roadhog was (of all the ridiculous things), and just as suddenly rambling about how the two of them were going to travel the world, stealing everything nice and blowing up what they couldn't carry with them.

Telling him to shut up didn't work. Ignoring him didn't work. Junkrat just talked.

Sometimes Roadhog seriously pondered if killing him was worth the risk of dying by explosives.

They took down two outposts, in quick succession, scouring them for water, gas, food, explosives, and hogdrogen. Fighting together they did brilliantly. At first Roadhog had worried he'd be hampered by protecting Junkrat, that he would be used as shock troops and a meat shield and nothing more, but he wasn't. As often as Roadhog stepped in front of bullets that would have torn Junkrat to shreds, Junkrat was cursing and shooting frags off at someone who was gunning for Roadhog.

Junkrat's madness complemented Roadhog's, their philosophy of moving fast and meeting resistance with overwhelming firepower keeping them neck and neck as they tore through the fortified buildings. Roadhog hadn't decimated an outpost in far too long, even if he was doing it on a two-man team now. He laughed as they tore buildings apart and left smouldering wreckage in their wake. His belly _hurt_ with how much he was laughing.

Once, Roadhog had been the terror of the outback. The sound of his bike was feared from one end of it to the other.

Why had he stopped?

He'd just been so _tired_ when the bosses came to him with an offer. Work for them, and be given anything he needed. No need to think anymore. He'd taken the offer, and sunken into dusty monotony. A chained guard dog.

The chain was broken now. It felt so good to feel the broken roads beneath his tires again, feel the wind in his hair and whistling against his mask. Junkrat had come for an enforcer everyone knew was well past his expiration date, and Roadhog was rising from his own ashes deadlier than ever. Like junker civilization had... just like the outback itself.

The word traveled faster than the wind, radioed from the panicked outposts before they went down. Roadhog was taking back the road, and now he had the mad bomber in his protection. Junkrat's maps might be indecipherable scrawls on torn bits of paper, but he really did seem to know where they were going and what to expect when they arrived. They took the smaller roads Roadhog had memorized from his own raiding days, keeping unnoticed until it was time to strike.

It would have been a perfect partnership if Junkrat knew how to _shut up_ already. Just when Roadhog had enough of the chatter, just when he decided to risk grabbing Junkrat out of the sidecar and throwing him into a boulder at high speed and see if he could outride the blast, Junkrat showed him what he'd been tinkering on with a smile more sweet than any junker ought to be able to smile.

"New stock for your gun! Now the barrel won't hit your fingers when you reload!"

Roadhog had hardly noticed the problem, the burns he'd gotten from the heated barrel weren't severe. It was the kind of thing he was used to in a world where _everything_ was the wrong size. Junkrat had noticed it, and instead of complaining about how hard it was to outfit Roadhog he just... fixed it. Roadhog tossed the gun into the sidecar instead of tossing Junkrat out of it, and Junkrat happily tore it apart to put it together again improved.

The third night sleeping without even a too-small mattress, the third night trying to sleep and listening to Junkrat babble on about—Roadhog didn't even know at this point, something ridiculous—Roadhog had enough of it. He reached across the space between their bedrolls, dropping his heavy hand down on top of Junkrat's face.

It was meant as a threat, but Junkrat broke off mid-sentence, giggling. "Roadhoooog," he purred, cold metal and feverish real hands stroking up Roadhog's arm. His scrawny body arched up, like the smallest touch was all it took to get his engine running.

"Shut _up_." Roadhog growled, and Junkrat shivered through. He said something else, something that might have been 'make me', but Roadhog couldn't quite tell because he'd squirmed around to suck two of Roadhog's fingers into his mouth and it was kind of garbled around them.

Junkrat moaned, drool everywhere as he sucked Roadhog's fingers all the way in. Like he was absolutely sure that Roadhog wanted this, wanted him, would enjoy it. Just like he'd been so sure that Roadhog wanted to get back on the road and would join him.

Thing was, it was working. Again. Roadhog generally liked partners with more meat on their bones, but something about the way Junkrat was squirming and moaning was doing it for him. The front of Junkrat's ratty shorts were tented, and Roadhog's pants were getting tight against the protective grille. Just two of Roadhog's fingers stretched Junkrat's mouth out, but he sucked them all the way down to the last knuckle without gagging.

Roadhog pulled them out a bit and added a third finger with them. Junkrat whimpered, lips spread tight and his jaw popping, but he gamely opened enough to take the third finger in too, throat spasming at the blunt digits tried to push in. And still he was holding onto Roadhog's arm, pulling him in closer, whole body squirming. Getting off on it.

Roadhog wanted to feel Junkrat do that on his cock. A decision needed to be made, then. Did Roadhog want to fuck the mad bomber? Yes. _Should_ he? That was harder. He'd gathered enough from Junkrat's incessant rambling that he remembered some things from before the omnium blew, what he termed the 'before-times'. That was long enough ago that Junkrat was definitely an adult, old enough to decide for himself who he wanted to have sex with. And he clearly wasn't afraid of Roadhog at all. So there was no problem there. The problem was... was...

Junkrat's tongue was pressing against Roadhog's fingers, trying to worm its way between them as his mouth was fucked, and Roadhog couldn't think of any problems at all. He _wanted_. As long as he was sticking with Junkrat, the thing to do was to enjoy the madness as it unfolded.

Roadhog jerked his fingers out of Junkrat's mouth, ignoring his protests. "Suck my cock," he growled.

"Oh Hoggie! Yesyesyes!" Junkrat dove for Roadhog's crotch, fingers metal and flesh getting in the way as Roadhog undid his buckle and unzipped his pants. "Big!" Junkrat praised, rubbing what felt like his filthy cheeks all over Roadhog's cock before finally getting his mouth on it.

Soft lips, slick tongue, his flesh hand stroking the base. Junkrat knew what he was doing with a cock. He moaned, sucking enthusiastically, spit everywhere and taking Roadhog deep enough to feel the tightness at the back of his throat. It was _good_ , good enough to get lost in.

Roadhog's hand was on the back of Junkrat's head, stroking his clumpy hair and feeling his rise and fall. Junkrat didn't panic and struggle back, didn't flail, when Roadhog started to try and guide him, push him for deeper. There was just suddenly a mouthful of sharp teeth squeezing down on Roadhog's cock, suddenly a metal hand firmly grasping his balls, threatening to crush them. Roadhog let up the pressure immediately, and the blowjob turned good again.

Roadhog laughed. What else did he expect from Junkrat? This was a man who'd decided to take everyone and everything in a wide radius with him if he died. Pleasure if Roadhog went along with him, pain if he didn't. Junkrat was the one sucking cock, but he did it on his own terms. He kept as much control as he wanted, even from Roadhog.

Junkrat made an approving moan at Roadhog's laugh, shuddering. "Touch me," he demanded, voice hoarse, pulling off Roadhog's cock very briefly. Roadhog couldn't see him over the curve of his belly, but it wasn't hard to find his head again. This time Roadhog kept his touch light, running up and down the knobs of Junkrat's neck and petting his head. Junkrat squirmed and moaned and fucked his mouth on Roadhog's cock.

It had been a while for Roadhog, and longer still since he'd had someone this _enthusiastic_. He didn't try to hold back, grunting harshly and letting the release of orgasm shudder through him.

Junkrat pulled off when Roadhog started to come, cheering his orgasm the same way he would a good explosion, and then licked his come up. "Mmm, extra protein!" Junkrat explained, laughing. "Waste nothing."

Roadhog didn't know if he was serious about that or not. When Junkrat was satisfied with Roadhog's cleanliness, he climbed the rest of the way up on Roadhog, hands grabbing everywhere and humping frantically against Roadhog's belly like he was planning on getting off that way. Roadhog could have let him. Instead he rolled Junkrat off him, leaving him no time to pout before tugging at his shorts. Junkrat figured out what Roadhog was going for immediately and unbuttoned the fiddly little button for him, grinning hugely as he pulled his cock out.

It would have been a big cock, shown to anyone but Roadhog. Junkrat's height had definitely done it some favors. Roadhog took it carefully between his thumb and first two fingers, stroking it carefully. There were a lot of men who wilted, seeing themselves so small in someone's hand, but Junkrat didn't have that problem at all. He thrust up into Roadhog's hand, moaning shamelessly.

Junkrat had a nice cock, for all it was attached to a deranged assemblage of bones and sinew. Just the right size for if Roadhog wanted a little something in the back.

"I could ride you," Roadhog mused aloud, and Junkrat's vivid orange eyes rolled clear back in his head as he came. It hadn't been more than a minute of contact. Roadhog laughed. Maybe riding Junkrat wasn't a great idea, if that was how long he lasted.

Most men got offended if their partner laughed at them after sex, but Junkrat laughed along with Roadhog. He grabbed Roadhog's hand, licking his own come off it, before scooping up what he'd left on his own belly and slurping that down too. Maybe he really did consider it food. Wouldn't be the weirdest thing about him.

Roadhog fastened his belt and made himself as comfortable as he could on his bedroll, tugging the blanket close. He felt warm and relaxed, in a far better mood than he'd been before the sex.

"Gotta get slick," Junkrat commented, curling up against Roadhog's arm. "Ought to be some at the next outpost. Don't blow it up before searching. Explosives, slick, water, food. Good supplies. Can't fuck my Hoggie without lube, hahaha! Don't let me forget."

"Shut. Up." Roadhog begged, putting his hand over Junkrat's face in the same way that had failed last time. Junkrat immediately sucked one of Roadhog's fingers into his mouth, idly gnawing on it. Roadhog sighed and pulled it away. He folded Junkrat's flesh hand into a fist with the thumb out, and stuck his thumb in his own mouth. Junkrat made a curious sound, sucking on his thumb. He tried to say a few things, mumbled around the thumb, then yawned and dropped immediately into sleep.

He wasn't in his own bedroll, and there was a cool breeze on the dry night air. Roadhog considered picking him up to put him in his bedroll, or leaving him to get cold and uncomfortable and go to it on his own, but either of those options were likely to wake him and there was no telling how long it would be before he fell asleep again. Roadhog rolled his eyes at himself and grabbed Junkrat's blanket to spread over him, leaving him napping against Roadhog's arm.

It was purely self defense from the talking. That was all. Not that it was nice to have a warm little body curled up close to him. Roadhog couldn't even remember having had that, not in this life. Of course he didn't need it.

He was just here for the treasure and a half-take of everything they could steal together, of course. That's all he was after. The excitement of being on the road again, of wholesale destruction, was just a bonus. As was the new equipment, and the sex, and laughing until it hurt.

Roadhog could walk away from this whenever he wanted.

With that comforting thought, Roadhog fell asleep, his heavy body curled in toward the long scrawny bomber who'd hunted him down and blown the boredom out of his life with a cackle and a boom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are love <3


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